


To Those Led Astray

by hatsubee



Category: TXT (Korea Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Asphyxiation, Horror, M/M, Paranormal, Prologue, Souls, mature - Freeform, soul containment, sp00ky, vmin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:03:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatsubee/pseuds/hatsubee
Summary: When Taehyung visits an indie art gallery to get extra credit for a class, he doesn’t expect it to be the last thing he ever does.





	To Those Led Astray

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on twitter: https://twitter.com/Hatsubee_/status/1161120545577902082?s=20
> 
> Twt: @hatsubee_
> 
> Prologue to a bigger plot

Taehyung pushes open the glass door of a small art gallery located off the beaten path a few blocks from his university. He heard about the place from a flyer tacked to the faculty cork board outside his lecture hall.

_ "Now," _ His art history professor had said with a sigh, _ "I didn't expect the results of this exam to be so... dismal." _

Taehyung had let out a sigh, resting his head on the desk in front of him. He then closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that he was only dreaming. Taehyung had failed his first exam of his academic career... in a class that he was very much interested in. He knew that he was screwed the moment he sat down and saw that it wasn't multiple choice.

Why does an art student, whose goal is to produce _ art _, need to memorize the dates of old white men who could only draw micro-penises anyway? So what if they painted a chapel? Its 2019 Shannon, Ellen Degeneres has more followers than Jesus in this economy.

_ "Well this wouldn't be art school without some leeway, now would it?" _ The professor cleared his throat, _ "As an act of benevolence, I will offer extra credit." _

Taehyung's head snapped up in interest.

_ Extra credit! Maybe there is a god after all. Sorry Jesus. _

That's how Taehyung found himself standing in front of the faculty advertisement board with the majority of his classmates. They were to do some "field work" as their professor has said. 

Visit a gallery. Write a report. Bazinga!

_ One small step for me, one giant leap for my self esteem! _Taehyung thought to himself as he stepped up to the board.

Taehyung could hardly keep his excitement inside as he scanned over the advertisements. He loves going to art galleries. There is something mystic about looking at art, like reaching a part inside of us that can't be touched in conventional ways. It is the true and only way to dive into the soul and connect on a cosmic level.

Taehyung took his time browsing all the options... There was a realism exhibit a few train stops away, and -OH!- _ 'abstract art through the ages' _ sounds nice.

Taehyung was about to rip down the flyer for the abstract art exhibit when a small black flyer tacked discreetly on the bottom corner of the board caught his eye. It was only the size of a postcard, halfway hidden behind another flyer, but something about it drew him in.

And maybe it was the hot spicy hunk of a man on the flyer that made him forget that there were other galleries to choose from, but if you asked Taehyung he wouldn't admit it.

This is how he found himself in the little gallery on a side street a few blocks from his university.

~~~~~~~

The gallery is otherwise minimal. Besides the glass door, the space is white from floor to ceiling. After entering and paying his fare at the front desk (not before flirting a little with the cute front desk clerk), Taehyung began to wander the rooms. There is a surprising amount of people at the gallery considering how far out of the way the location is. Taehyung found himself waiting just so he could get a good look at the paintings. So far, the paintings were impressive, but nothing particularly stood out.

_ Where is the hot guy from the poster? _ Taehyung frowned and pulled the flyer from his pocket, giving it a better look. _ Isn't he supposed to be the main artist or something? _

Taehyung's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sharp malice of a Luis Vuitton shoulder bag jabbing into his ribs.

"Ow!" He cried out to deaf ears, as the lady kept maneuvering through the crowd to keep up with a gallery tour group.

Pouting, Taehyung bobbed and weaved his way back to the front desk, startling the mousy employee who worked there.

"Hey~" Taehyung pressed his palms against the counter, leaning onto them. "Can you help me out with something?"

He watched the employee gulp, obviously intimidated by Taehyung’s presence. "A-And how may I help you, sir?"

Taehyung gave a cheeky smile. The boy was obviously still affected from their conversation earlier. He may have tried to … seduce the boy while paying the entrance fee. But hey? Take your shot when you can, right?

Also, what was the boy’s name again? Yeonjun?

"I'm looking for this man." Taehyung said, slipping the flyer from his pocket and sliding it across the desk with his index finger. "You know where I could find him?"

Taehyung watched as Yeonjun sat up in his seat to peer over the counter at the flyer. 

"Um, that exhibit is upstairs."

"Upstairs?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow, he doesn't remember there being a staircase.

"Yes," Yeonjun gave a small smile, "Just go to the third room all the way at the end, there is a set of stairs."

"Hmm..." Taehyung hummed, tapping his fingers on the desk. "All right, but If I get lost I'm coming back and you're going to have to take me there."

"Um... I need to staff the desk..." Yeonjun squeaked out.

Taehyung let out a laugh, "You're way too easy to tease kid. I'll be fine, have a good shift."

With new information, Taehyung navigated himself to the gallery, retracing his previous route, and pushed his way through the crowd to the back of the room. It was not as crowded here and far less claustrophobic. Taehyung easily found the set of stairs Yeonjun was talking about.

Taehyung’s jaw dropped the second he walked onto the second floor landing. The space opens up into a long room, lined side to side with paintings of the most gorgeous men Taehyung has ever seen. 

They are all bust portraits, each portraying a unique character and expression.

There are historic men, androgynous men, modern men, pretty much any “type” of man is depicted in this gallery. 

Taehyung is awestruck.

Not only did the artist captures the beauty of each individual, but the artistic style and color scheme all contribute to an ongoing narrative.

Since the upstairs portion of the gallery is considerably less crowded than the ground floor, Taehyung has the chance to step closer to the paintings and examine them.

The first painting he approaches is of a side profile of a man. He’s holding a rose over his shoulder, twisting his head, and puckering his lips as if to kiss the petals. 

“Handsome.” Taehyung finds himself saying out loud to nobody in particular.

He takes time marveling at the painting, as if to commit every stroke to memory, from the rough texturing of the clothing to the delicate brush strokes that form the hands. 

Taehyung can’t even imagine himself having the capacity to paint something so delicate and detailed.

He finally tears his eyes away to walk further into the room, eyes immediately captured by another painting.

This painting is black and white and shows a front view of a man with a puffy retro jacket. His head is turned to the side as if something had pulled his attention off the bounds of the portrait.

Taehyung can’t help but be impressed by the shading of this portrait. The blending of grays gives the subject’s facial features an eerily realistic appearance. You can see the moment of surprise captured in the boy’s face after he saw whatever he saw.

As Taehyung continued to walk further into the room, the clothing and hairstyles of the portraits progress in age. With what began as overcoats and top hats transitioned into jeans and bomber jackets. A chronicle of popular men’s fashion throughout the ages.

As he surveys the portraits, one in particular shocks him in a way he didn’t think was possible.

It is a portrait of a boy with soft round features. He’s colored in golden hues and looks wistfully off into the distance.

For Taehyung, looking into the portrait’s eyes is like looking into the stars. He doesn’t notice himself move closer to the painting until he finds himself standing in front of it, as if gravitating toward it.

Past the glossy gaze of the boy, Taehyung can see something more.

Taehyung sees a small cottage in the middle of a field. Giggles echoing off the stone walls. Two little boys burst through the wooden door letting it slam shut behind them as they break into a run.

Their feet carry them through the grass and further into the rolling hills. Giggling the entire way hand in hand. They slow down as they come to a small creek, finally releasing their hands. The reflection of the water shines bright in the afternoon sun. The boys’ cheeks are dusted a delicate pink. They turn to each other and smile.

Taehyung sees a wooden school house with a dozen desks scattered about. The two boys from before are there, but older and dressed in shorts and polo shirts.

One sits at a desk by the window, sketching on a piece of paper eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The older sits perched on the windowsill, feet propped against the desk that the other is using. His head is turned looking out the window at the fields as the wind rustles through it. He feels a poke at his cheek and it’s the other boy standing in front of him, sketch long abandoned.

The boy on the windowsill smiles and reaches a hand to cup the other boy’s cheek before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

As they pull away from each other, blushing, they fall into a fit of giggles.

A door to the room suddenly bangs open and the two immediately separate. In comes some other school children, similarly dressed in uniform, bumbling their way to their respective desks. The two boys share a smile before sitting down themselves.

More scenes flash by in a flurry... the boys at the ocean together... the boys laying under the shade of a tree... the boys cooking a meal and burning it...

Each scene is infused with golden hues, glitzing in giggles and soft touches. The feeling of lightness in the boys’ hearts permeates the atmosphere.

At last the scenes stop flickering by and it settles on one of the boys, alone this time. There is no warm glow or cozy atmosphere.

It is cold and empty.

The boy is an adult now, standing still in the fields of their youth. The cabin sits still in the distance, worn with age.

The scene stays this way for an extended amount of time. The boy stands in the field, back turned to the cabin, motionless in the motionless grass.

The cabin door opens and it’s the other boy, now taller than the other. He opens his mouth to call out to the shorter boy in the field but gets no response.

The boy continues to stand there still in the field, back turned to the other boy.

The taller boy calls out again from the cabin and yet again receives no response. He begins to walk over to the boy, the rustling of grass the only noise in the field.

The taller boy makes his way through the grass and stops a few feet behind where the other boy is standing. His back is turned and head down, focused on the small creek that runs at his feet.

The taller boy puts a hand on the others shoulder, attempting to turn the other around.

With quick movement, the other boy slaps his hand away and turns around to face him.

The tall boy screams at the sight.

Where the shorter boy’s eyes should be are empty sockets. Black wet streaks stain his emotionless face. The tall boy finds himself unable to move as the shorter boy steps toward him, slowly lifts both his arms, and wraps his hands around his neck, pressing hard.

The taller boy jolts into response, trying to pry the hands off his throat but the grip is too strong. The blackness bubbles from the shorter boy’s eyes, releasing more fluid down his face and onto their feet.

The taller boy cant breathe.

The shorter boy smiles as the taller boy continues to panic and claw at the shorter boy’s iron grip. As the smile grows, black liquid spills out of his mouth and onto his white shirt.

“Mine.”

~~~~~~~

Taehyung gasps, eyes shooting open.

He’s back in the gallery, laying on the floor of the second story.

Tenderly, he reaches up to his throat, fingers ghosting over where he felt hands on his throat. His vision felt all to real.

“Are you mine?” A soft angelic voice rings throughout the silence in the gallery.

Wait—- since when was this place silent?

Sitting up, Taehyung finds himself staring back at the golden boy from the painting, except he is _ no longer in the canvas _.

As if he stepped through the threshold of the frame, the golden boy’s starry eyes stare into Taehyung’s. He finds himself unable to talk or move.

The golden boy steps closer to him and crouches down, making him eye level with Taehyung.

Taehyung’s breathing quickens as the golden boy leans in, cocking his head to the side, and smiles a dazzling smile that makes his eyes disappear.

Slowly the golden boy stands back up, smile still plastered on his face.

“Mine, at last.” He speaks softly.

In the next instant, Taehyung finds himself unable to breathe.

He gasps for air, hands coming up to his throat to claw at the skin with no avail. Taehyung chokes on himself, eyes wide, as the golden boy watches from where he stands still smiling.

Tears prick at the corner of Taehyung’s eyes as it gets harder to hold onto his consciousness.

_ Why? _ he thinks to himself

_ Because you’re mine. _

~~~~~~~

Yeonjun flips the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ on the front door after the last patrons leave.

He sighs in relief and lets his shoulders droop. It has been such a surprisingly busy and long day catering the gallery. He drags himself over to the cleaning supply closet and begins his nightly cleaning routine.

The downstairs is particularly filthy today, trash is thrown about and empty cups are left despite the strict no food policy. Sighing, Yeonjun dutifully puts each item into a trash bag.

He finishes cleaning the first floor and gives an internal cheer until he realizes that he still needs to clean the second floor.

Groaning, he gets a new trash bag and hauls his broom up the stairs.

Immediately his eyes land on a black and white painting lying on the floor.

Yeonjun groans, _ as if this day couldn’t get even more troublesome. _

Abandoning his cleaning items by the staircase, Yeonjun walks over to inspect the newest addition to the collection.

He recognizes the face immediately. It’s the annoying boy who kept flirting with him earlier. Rolling his eyes, Yeonjun pics up the painting from the floor and lifts it up to get a better view.

_ Quite a nice one this time. _ Yeonjun thinks to himself, quirking an eyebrow.

The painting is in black and white. There are hands wrapping around the subjects throat as he gazes off to the side with empty eyes.

Shrugging, Yeonjun leans the painting against the nearest wall, abandoning his cleaning duties.

_ No use in cleaning up now, time to pack and move onto the next town. _He stretches his arms above his head and lets out a long yawn before making his way toward the stairs. He flips off the light switch grumbling as he walks down the stairs.

_ I wasn’t here very long at all this time. _

_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading uwu


End file.
